Your room was silent —

I mean, the kind of silence possible when Will Grayson III is present.

You were sitting at the desk, studying, trying to ignore his noise turning your cell phone as if you were a very bored private detective.

“Why, exactly, don’t you have a password?” he asked, left on his stomach on his bed, with his cell phone raised up.

“Because I trust people,” you replied, without taking your eyes off the book.

“Error number one,” he replied, with a dry tone.

“Error number two... put this here in public.”

You turned slowly.

“This what?”

He arched an eyebrow, showing the screen.

“You have a playlist on Spotify called ‘you can take off your clothes’. Seriously, was that the choice of name for a sex playlist?”

You released a “MY GOD” and jumped out of the chair, going towards him, who obviously turned sideways and held the cell phone away.

“WILL, GIVE IT TO ME!”

“Not really. Now I’m curious. Is this the official soundtrack of your performance?” he asked, laughing, rolling his eyes through the list.

“You’re a human trash!” you said, laughing and trying to get it.

“Oh, look... The Weeknd, SZA, a naughty remix of Arctic Monkeys. What a delicious playlist.”

You managed to get on the bed, but he had already rolled to the side, laughing like an idiot.

“Will, seriously, give it back. That’s embarrassing!”

“I think...”, he said, rolling until you practically fell on top of him, “...that you should let me test this playlist. By way of scientific research, of course.”

You stood still for two seconds.

His face was there, so close, his eyes laughing, but also evaluating. His breath brushed his skin.

“You suck.”

“And you have terrible playlist names,” he replied, still smiling.

“Are you really going to use this against me?”

“No...”, he murmured, and the tone changed.

Lower.

More intense.

“...I’ll use this to find out what else you hide.”